One Day Chapter 2
by FireIceAir
Summary: Second chapter of One Day. Katniss, Gale and Peeta are in the bakery.


The ground, frosty beneath my feet, crunches as I make my way up the drive to my new mansion in the Victor's Village. My mother, Prim and I had moved in a couple of weeks ago, and they had settled in quickly. I was the only one who still used our old house in the Seam, still the official residence of my mother and sister. It was the one place I felt I was home. Back when we lived there, life was hard, but I always had known my place. Unlike now, when I'm so famous and so rich and so hated by the Capitol.

Winter has settled in on District 12 now and though my family have no need for meat anymore, I still go hunting in the woods. Gale has gone to work in the mines, so he has no time to come with me anymore – his 12 hour shifts have put an end to our partnership six days a week. He and his mother, Hazelle, are determined that the boys, Rory and Vick, and the baby, Posy, will never have to sign up for tesserae. As it is, Hazelle works her hands raw washing clothes for the wealthier citizens of 12, and with Gale working in the mines, there's less food coming in. So I said I would hunt for them. I have nothing to do anyway, as there is no pressure to feed my mother and Prim anymore. Still, I could see how Gale's pride took a fall when Hazelle accepted my offer. But I owe him from when I was in the games. He kept his promise of looking after my family – now it's my turn to repay him. Because I hate owing people. Even if he is my best friend.

Another person I can't seem to stop owing is Peeta. First, he gave me the bread, and then kept us alive in the Hunger Games. And now it's all we can do to avoid each other. I still don't know how I feel for him – I won't deny I feel some longing for his hand in mine, his arm around my shoulders. But it's buried under the guilt and shame I feel when I remember what happened on the way back from the Capitol. How I hurt him so much that he can't even look at me anymore. The sound of his voice as we pulled into the station. It was hollow, pained. To know that I'm the cause of that makes me feel ashamed. And I miss him. I'm so ridiculously selfish but I can't help it. We've been through so much in the Hunger Games that we're tied together. You can't break bonds that go that deep. But can you bury them and pretend they aren't there? I know I'll always feel attached to him in some way. And with the victory tour coming up soon, we'll have to throw away the indifference and coldness we have put between each other and pretend to be the 'star-crossed lovers from District 12' again.

My thoughts have got me distracted and I nearly break my neck when I slip on some ice. The weather is definitely getting worse. As I arrive at my house in the Victor's Village and let myself in, my mother comes bustling out of the kitchen, cheeks pink from the heat, bundles of rags in her hands. She looks flustered, and as soon as she sees me her face smoothes with relief.

"Katniss! Finally! I need you to go into town for me. We need more bandages, and we should probably stock up on some rubbing alcohol, we're running low. Here! I'll write a list."

I watch, perplexed, as she darts around the kitchen, checking cupboards and shelves, while running in and out of the room to check on her patient. Peeking around the door frame, I can see Prim ladling a snow coat onto some poor man's stomach. I don't go in to the room. Although I am in awe of my mother and Prim, who turn into completely different people when they see a sick or injured person, I cannot be in the same room with one. Whenever desperately injured or ill men or women come with their families to my mother, that's usually my cue to run to the woods.

I wait in the hall for a bit, and finally, just when I try to find the courage to go in to my mother, Prim comes out and hands me a list.

"How is he?" I ask, genuinely concerned for the man. A serious injury in district 12 can mean death for a family, and I assume he has one waiting anxiously in the next room.

Prim gives a small subtle shake of her head and sighs. I take that as my cue to leave and pull on my leather jacket and hat again. Outside the cold hits me as snow starts to fall, brushing my cheeks and getting caught on my eyelashes. I slip and slide my way into town, and take refuge under a shop front from the weather, which is quickly turning into a blizzard. I scan the items written down on the shopping list, and my heart sinks when I see the last one.

_Bread._

Buying bread will mean going into the bakery, where Peeta might be. And I know if I see Peeta, all my memories and feelings I left on the train that brought us back from the Capitol will come flooding back and it'll be all I'm able to do not to run away empty handed. I'm trying to think of a way not to run into him – maybe I'll peek in the front window, or ask someone coming out of the shop who is manning the till – when I slip and fall, for real this time, onto my back, slamming my head into the ground in the process. I lie there for a bit, in the cold snow, until the world has stopped spinning and assumed its usual horizontal position. I sit up straight, bringing on another round of dizziness and a wave of pain in my back. My fingers probe the back of my head and come away with wet, warm blood on them.

"Can this day get ANY worse?" I snap at myself, while pulling off my hat and scooping some snow into it, to use as an ice pack.

I slip and slide the rest of the way into the square to the closest shop I see. I stumble up the bakery steps and into the shop. Seeing who's behind the counter, concentrating on drawing with long strokes of chalk, makes me scold myself for my earlier comment. Of course this day would get worse.

"Oh," says Peeta, when he looks up, and sees me standing there like a deer in headlights. "Hello."

I continue to stare. He looks better from when I last saw him – he's put on weight, enough to make him look healthy again, and his cheeks have lost their hollowness. His hair is still the same, the ashy blonde waves still fall over his forehead, and his eyes are as piercing as ever. However, they're more guarded and wary, and this feels like a blow to the stomach, because I'm the one who made them like that. When I think of that, I let out a gasp, as if someone actually has punched me in the stomach, and the world swirls around me again.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks, and his eyes widen when he sees me take my bloody fingers away from my head to inspect them, still in a daze. My hat isn't making much of a difference – it's soaked through. Looking at it makes me dizzy again, and I step back to steady myself, accidentally bumping into a display cabinet and knocking over the cakes. "What have you done to yourself?"

He comes over to me, and we touch for the first time in months as he guides me to a chair. I groan as I sit down – any movement sends ripples of pain through my back. I let him take my hat and pull my coat off me, because I'm starting to sweat in the warmth of the bakery. He takes a look at the back of my head and I try not to cry out as my hair pulls at my scalp as it's released from my usual braid. He gasps when he sees the cut.

"What happened?" he asks, and I mutter something about falling and knocking over cakes. My head can't form a coherent thought. The combination of the pain in my head and the shame I feel that Peeta is looking after me, again, even after all I've done to him, has got me confused and slightly annoyed. But that's just the kind of guy Peeta is. He's too selfless and kind to leave me to rot in the snow, even though that's what I would have done by now if I were him. Which just shows how much better he is. Even in the arena he was working to keep me safe, and I didn't give him a second thought until it was announced that two tributes from the same district could win.

And I'm suddenly furious with him. Why doesn't he hate me? I lead him on then stomped all over his heart. He should despise me and throw me out into the cold and the snow and stop being so _nice_.

That's why I decide to do what Peeta is too good to do. I stand up suddenly, and although the world spins I ignore it. "I'm leaving."

"What?" he looks baffled. "You can't leave now. You can barely stand up without feeling dizzy."

So he noticed my shakiness. Damn.

"Bye Peeta," I growl. I lurch towards the bakery door but he gets there first, barring the way. I glare at him. Why doesn't he hate me? It would be better if he did. I would know where we stood, what our relationship with each other was. Friends, Enemies, or two people that avoid each other in the street. I turn on my heels and make my way towards the back door of the bakery, where I traded my squirrels for bread with Peeta's father. Peeta takes a second to realize where I'm going. Swearing under his breath, he chases after me as I stalk through the shop. He ducks under my arm as I'm about to open the door and stands in front of it, again blocking my way out.

"Let me go," I frown, because I really don't understand why he's keeping me inside. Considering all that has happened between us, this is the opposite of what I expected him to do.

"No," he says simply. "You're hurt. I don't want to be the one responsible for your death after you pass out in the cold and catch pneumonia."

Just scowling at him doesn't seem to express the anger and confusion I feel right now, so I stalk back to my chair and slam myself down on it, sending waves of pain across my back that hurt so much I let out a whimper. Peeta comes over, concerned, and his sharp intake of breath when I remove my layers of jumpers until I'm in a simple vest lets me know how bad the bruising is.

"I should call my mother, and let her know I'm being held against my will here," I snarl, when he comes back from behind the counter, a bowl of hot water, rags and bandages in his hands. He nods to me, and I take the gesture as an allowance to use the phone. I dial my house number, and Prim answers the phone.

"Hello?" she asks hesitantly. She still isn't used to talking to someone without seeing their face or knowing they're close by.

"Prim, it's me," I say quickly, putting her at ease.

"Katniss," she breathes out a sigh of relief. "Where are you? Mother's worried sick – she thinks you got caught in the blizzard. Are you alright? Your voice sounds a bit slurred."

Blizzard? I cross over to the window, and sure enough, there's a snow storm blowing ferociously through the square. "I'm fine, I just fell, that's all. I'm at the bakery, it looks like-"

"You fell?" Prim says sharply. "How bad is it?"

"I'm fine, it's just a scratch. Prim, I-" Peeta takes the phone from my grasp and props it between his shoulder and his ear while he mixes some kind of mixture in with the hot water. "Prim? Hi, it's Peeta. Yes, it's bad – it looks like she gashed the back of her head pretty awfully. Her back's a huge bruise too. I have a herbal remedy for bruises that you gave me last time I fell, but I'm not sure what to do about her head. Uh huh… yes, it's bleeding pretty heavily… ok, I'll wait here, you go get your mother."

I watch while Peeta takes instructions from my mother, checking cupboards and looking in pots, and I feel slightly in awe and slightly annoyed. He's still looking out for me, still trying to help me. The thought of this makes me feel quite pleased, for some reason, until I remember that he should hate me, and then it makes me confused.

Since I'm going to be here for a while, at least until the storm lets up, I open the display cabinet and start putting the cakes back in place. Peeta really has a talent for icing – the decorations on these cakes are so precise, so meticulously placed that it would almost be a crime to eat them. Prim and I used to walk past the shop window after school sometimes. She loved looking at the designs of the cakes, even if we couldn't buy them. I decide to buy her a pretty one for later, and pick a small cupcake with swirled icing and a small primrose flower placed on top.

"Good choice. She'll like that one," It seems Peeta has finished his conferring with my mother about my head. He's soaking some rags in a bowl of water and unwinding clean bandages. "I'm just going to clean your head and then bandage it up. When you go home your mother can treat it properly, but until the blizzard lets up, you're stuck here." He motions for me to sit down in the chair and I do, more carefully this time because I don't want to hurt my back again.

"It's going to sting a little," he says while picking out a rag from the bowl. "Put your head on your knees."

I do and when he touches the rag to my head I give a hiss and a yelp of pain. It's going to _sting a little_? Understatement.

"Sorry," he apologizes, but he doesn't stop slowly wiping away the congealed blood from my scalp and cut. "I'm nearly done, Katniss."

After he finishes cleaning my cut he bandages my head so that I look like I'm wearing a turban. I'm really sleepy for some reason, and my eyes keep falling shut before I snap them open again. Peeta sees this and smirks.

"What?" I growl, irritated.

"You look so funny – like you're a fortune teller on one of those Capitol shows on television," he chuckles. Scowling at him makes him start to laugh out loud.

"Well, I'm glad one of us is amused," I retort. He sobers up quickly when he realizes that I'm not joking, I'm actually pretty annoyed. I think of a cutting comment to say but when I open my mouth I let out a massive yawn, and he grins. Exasperated at myself and him, I flop down on the floor as gently as I can and make myself comfortable.

"Wake me when the blizzard stops." I command. If he replies I don't hear it, because as soon as I close my eyes I fall asleep.

My dreams, usually nightmares, don't make an appearance for once – I can only think that it must be the result of my injury. When I wake up, it's not from screaming, or hurting myself after thrashing around. It's the ring of the little bell that signifies that someone has entered the bakery as the door is wrenched open, and a voice I know all too well is calling out my name in worry.

"Katniss?" Gale cries, and I rest my bandaged head in my hands. This was certainly not turning out to be my day at all.

"Gale," I sigh. He strides over and crouches down in front of me, his eyes searching mine for lasting brain damage. Reaching out, he runs his right hand down from my bandage down my cheek and across my jawbone, but snatches it away and stands up when Peeta's heavy footfalls sound.

"Hel- Oh, I thought I heard someone enter in a rush," Peeta's voice sounds cold. I shrink a little, anticipating some kind of fight. The blanket Peeta put around me in my sleep is warm and woolly. It smells like bread and cinnamon. Like Peeta. "What do you want?"

"Relax, Mellark. I've just come to fetch Katniss. We'll be leaving now."

Gale motions for me to stand up, and when I try I feel slightly woozy again. This head wound might be more severe than I thought.

"She can't even get to her feet. Don't you think the best option is for her to stay here? This way, she can't hurt herself again."

"Staying here isn't an option. The plan is to bring her home, which I am trying to do now. Katniss, come here."

"I'm not your dog, Gale," I mutter. "Give the world a second to stop spinning."

I don't want to leave. The bakery is warm and comfortable, and I feel so tired. My back aches, my head is throbbing – the last thing I want to do is get up and walk all the way up the graveled drive leading to the Victor's Village. Gale was shifting his weight from one leg to the other – he's impatient to leave. He never liked Peeta, especially after the games. No matter how many times I told him that it was just an act. I didn't understand why he wasn't grateful to Peeta, as he was the one that kept me alive through the whole thing, but I put it down to Gale's suspicious nature. It took us months to earn each other's trust after we first met. We're alike in that sense. I don't like to trust people because, in the end, they leave you or betray you. It's not worth the hurt.

"Katniss. Come on!"

"Give her a chance - she nearly cracked her skull open! She shouldn't be getting up at all," Peeta was coming to my defense. "It won't be good for her; you should let her stay until she can leave!"

Gale snarls, and draws himself up to his full height. He doesn't like people telling him what to do. "I know what is good for her, and it isn't staying here with you."

"Shut up, Gale. Peeta's right, I won't make it home. I'm staying here until I feel better. Stop fighting, you're acting like a pair of wild dogs over a fresh kill." I exclaim wearily. I lean my head back against the bakery counter and close my eyes. Now that Peeta and Gale are silent I can hear a quiet ringing in my ears and my head throbs. As long as I don't move my back shouldn't hurt me too much. Their arguing is annoying me, but I don't have the energy to give out to them. I smirk when I think that through all my hunger games experience, the worst I got was a very bad burn, but as soon as I get home, I nearly split my head open and bruise my back so that it looks purple.

"Katniss?" Peeta ventures quietly. I realize that I must look very strange, my face in half a grimace and half a smirk, my one hand holding my head, the other on the place on my thigh where I was burned by the gamemakers' fireballs. Thinking of the arena has reminded me of horrible memories and maybe it's my damaged head, but when I open my eyes, I can see the mutts with the eyes of the tributes out of the corner of my vision. I shut my eyes quickly again, but this time I can hear a high pitched sound in my ear. Rue's scream.

Despite the fact I know that I have not moved from my spot on the floor of the bakery, when I open my eyes I see green leafy trees. The mockingjays sing the four note melody as my pace increases, trying to find her. I see the mutilated corpses of Glimmer and the girl from District four. My fault. I see Marvel, fresh blood pumping from the hole my arrow made in his neck. But still I have not found her.

And then I come to a clearing and there she is lying helpless, tangled in the net. I run towards her, but I'm too late.

"Peeta, I see her. I see _them_. Peeta," I say helplessly, my arms stretched out to him. I feel so weak, so heartbrokenly sad, that I give up trying to fight to be strong. I remember the sight, the smell, the terror of the arena. "No..." I whimper, as the spear enters Rue's body with a dull thud.

I forget Gale in the second Peeta's hands clasp mine. All I concentrate on is Peeta's steadiness, the warmth of his chapped hands stilling my cold, shaking ones. He was in the games too – he knows what I am seeing… Gale cannot even begin to guess how I feel.

My pounding head is on Peeta's shoulder, my shoulders shake waves of pain down my back as his shirt soaks up my tears. All the emotions I have been hiding since we returned home, worried that my mother or Prim would see me, the strong one of the family, so damaged and hurt. They all come pouring out onto Peeta's shirt as Gale looks awkwardly on, unable to do anything because he can't do anything – the hunger games is an experience Peeta and I share, only he knows exactly what I am going through right now. We are haunted by the ghosts of dead tributes, of our old selves.

Peeta lets me cry myself out. Exhausted, I hiccup, trying to control my rollercoaster emotions, which have left me with an even worse headache than before. I hurt all over, but I feel comforted. Not safe – I know that I'll never feel that way again – but calmed. Peeta's steadfastness held me to the ground when I was hysterical; he tethers me down now that I am done. He takes care of me.

Peeta had let me mourn in silence, but now he speaks. "You shut them out." It's a statement, not a question.

I nod. I had opted for sleepless nights instead of dreams, denial instead of acceptance. I wanted to pretend the games had never happened, to go back to my old life, even though I knew it wasn't there to return to. The games had changed me. They had changed us both.

"You have to remember them, Katniss. Don't you think they deserve that?"

Taking a shaky deep breath, I know that they deserve it. They were someone's daughter, cousin, brother. They were just like me – a child, forced to grow up too quickly. "Do you remember how smart Foxface was? You had no idea she was tracking you until… until the cannon fired." I end, realizing that most of our memories of tributes are going to be their deaths.

"Yeah. I do," Peeta says softly. He leans back and puts both hands on each side of my face, sparkling blue eyes gazing into dull grey ones. "And when you heard the boom, you ran back to find me, yelled at me, and then pulled me into a huge hug." There's a small smile playing on his lips.

"I didn't want you to die. I didn't want to lose you." I say, remembering my horror at finding the nightlock berries.

"You didn't. You'll never –" Peeta begins, but someone clears his throat and we look up, remembering Gale is there at the same time. A space that was comforting becomes awkward, and we both pull away from each other. I grip the counter and force myself into a standing position. It's painful, and tiring, but it's necessary that I leave. There's more than a small twinge of longing in my chest, but I remind myself that it's not supposed to be there.

Peeta has gone behind the counter, and is pulling out some of the white bakery bread my family can afford now. He wraps it up and puts it into a small bag, which he then hands to me. When I open it, it has wrapped up bits of food, bandages, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"I had a look at your shopping list," he says as I frown, trying to remember if I had bought these before I had come into the bakery. "I hope you don't mind. I got it together when you were asleep."

"You went out in the blizzard?" There's a small twinge of surprise to Gale's question, as well as irritation.

"Most of it is from the pantry. I couldn't leave Katniss here in case she was seriously hurt by her head injury so I just took what I had and what you needed." He's talking to me more than Gale.

Gale frowns, but I just thank Peeta and take the bag. I don't have a hard time taking things from people anymore, because I know I can pay them back now, though I feel guilty from taking the bag from Peeta. Gale, however, relies on only himself. I'm afraid that someday, that might backfire on him.

I hobble towards the door of the bakery, feeling a thousand years old. I thrust the bag into Gale's arms and steady myself against the wall, waiting for him to open the door. I'm just about to leave when I remember.

I turn, slowly, and stagger over to the display case where I had left the cake I wanted to buy for Prim. Peeta comes over with a paper bag and gently places the cake inside, folding the opening over so it won't fall out. He won't accept the money I try to give him.

"Peeta, please, I have to try to repay you for all you've done for me today. Take it." I try to force it into his hand, but instead he grabs mine and pulls me into a rough hug. After letting out a hiss of pain as my back wrenches, I realize how good this feels.

"I was worried," he admits, after holding me tight for a moment. "When you came in with blood all over your face and dripping from your fingers, it was like waking up in the cave after the feast all over again. It scared me."

I remember that. Getting him the medicine from the cornucopia, Clove slicing my head with her vicious knife, and then Thresh killing her but letting me go because I was Rue's ally… Rue… The spear impaling her…

I shake my head to free myself of memories, but one stays in my mind: Peeta's anger at me when I woke up after getting him the medicine. If I had made him feel the same way he did on that day… I feel guilty for causing him pain by making him remember, and on impulse I kiss him on the cheek. We're both stunned when I pull back.

"Thank you," I whisper, and place the money in his open hand. Still surprised, he gazes wordlessly at me. "I owe you so much. I hope this marks the beginning of me paying you back."

I shuffle to the doorway and open the door to see Gale halfway down the steps and waiting impatiently. He gestures at me to hurry up and I scowl at him.

After hobbling down the steps, I allow myself one look back at the bakery. I can see Peeta's profile in the window, watching me. After studying his silhouette, committing it to memory, I turn and limp away, reminding myself that that was the last time I will to see him for a while. I am sure that as soon as this day is over, we will go back to ignoring each other. This was just one unique day. Thinking back over it, I wonder if it was such a bad day after all.


End file.
